Losing Jess
by clair beaubien
Summary: How Dean gets Sam through those first days. Each chapter will be able to stand alone.
1. The First Night

"She seemed sweet." I said. My lousy attempt at sympathy. We were in the car, driving away from Sam's apartment. Driving him away from his life.

"She had the same birthday as you."

"No way."

"Yeah. Not the same year of course." That had to be the lawyer part of Sammy, _the whole truth_. "But – yeah."

"So – how'd you two meet?" Another lousy attempt. I knew it was shallow, but I figured getting Sammy to talk was better than letting him huddle inside his guilt. He didn't answer the question though.

"Where're we going?" He sounded like he did when we were kids and we'd pile in the car with Dad, when he wasn't on a hunt, when we didn't know where we were headed, we only knew we were getting to go somewhere with Dad.

"Find a motel."

"Oh." He sounded confused. And I thought, it's sinking into him that he's homeless. Again. "Oh." Maybe he thought we'd get right on the hunt. He probably did, knowing Sammy. Once he's got his teeth into something, it's move _now_ and don't stop until it's done. But he needed to sleep, he needed to eat. He needed to grieve.

"I saw a few places down this way. We'll -."

We'll _what_ genius? I asked myself. Sleep? Probably not going to happen. Get something to eat? Like either of us would be hungry. I was saved from having to come up with something by Sam's phone ringing.

"Hello?" His voice sounded funny, more than tired - thick, numb. In shock. "Tracy. Yeah, that was my building. It was – yeah. No. I – we – Tracy –." Well, wasn't Tracy the chatterbox, not letting Sam get an answer in. "No, she's not. She's not all right. She – yeah, she was the one on the news. She's – Jess is – look Tracy, I've got to go, okay? I -." He hung up mid-sentence and stared at the phone.

He'd just started saying something when it rang again. I pulled it out of his hand, found the 'OFF' button and tossed it in the back seat.

"I'm gonna need to answer it eventually."

"Not tonight."

He didn't dispute me, he only looked out the passenger window.

"Bookstore."

"_Bookstore?_" I asked. Sam wanted to go to a bookstore _now_?

"I met Jess in the bookstore. She was in line in front of me, she had like a hundred pounds of books in her arms and she dropped one and I picked it up for her and we started talking."

I try not to be a _'what if'_ kind of guy, because in this life, in any life I guess, that could drive you crazy. But right now I couldn't help it. What if he'd stood in another line? What if she'd bought her books on another day? What if we'd gotten back to his apartment ten minutes sooner?

What if _I'd_ gotten back to his apartment ten seconds _later_?

"A hundred pounds of books, hunh? So she was as strong and as smart as she was pretty."

That made Sam smile at least. A real smile.

"Okay, maybe not a _hundred_ pounds. But she had a lot of books."

"What was her major?"

He didn't answer me again. I wondered if he didn't want to or if he didn't hear the question.

"She loves to draw. She has an easel in our bedroom. She did this sketch of me, I'll have to show you -."

He stopped talking there and I seriously thought he wasn't breathing he looked so bad. But – he was only realizing that the sketch was gone. Jessica was gone. Everything was gone. Every sketch and photograph and book and scrap of paper was gone. All of his clothes. Any weapons he had. Anything he owned that wasn't in his travel bag was gone.

His normal, _safe_, life was gone.

Tears rolled down his face and he looked out the passenger window and all I wanted to do was drive as far as I could as fast as I could away from this town. But that's not what Sammy needed. There'd be a wake and a funeral, or a memorial service at the very least. He'd want to go to that. He'd want to talk to Jessica's parents, assuming she still had them. We'd have to go through the apartment in case anything survived.

And if that damn demon was anywhere still around, I was getting my shot at it.

I didn't say anything, I kept my eyes open for a decent motel. The shock was bad enough for Sam already, I didn't want him having to go from _comfortable_ _home _to _crappy_ _dive._

When I pulled into the parking lot of the motel and stopped in front of the office, Sam started to sob. I slid closer to him and put my hands on his shoulders.

"It's okay. It's okay."

Wasn't that the biggest lie I ever told him?

He sat back and started to turn but not enough and I held him a minute in a kind of awkward hug, with his shoulder pushing into my sternum and his head against my chin. Four days ago we weren't even speaking, and now he was sobbing in my arms. I didn't care if it was a chick flick moment. I didn't care about anything except taking care of Sam. And that job was suddenly bigger than it had ever been in our lives.

"I'm fine." he said. Did he actually expect me to believe that? "You don't have to – Dean, please – I'm fine." He turned himself back and out of my arms and scrubbed his face with his hand so hard I thought it ought to leave a mark. "Just – we should get a room, right? We need to – we need to – _get indoors._"

Yesterday, earlier today, I would've cheered that Sam's old hunting instincts were still going strong. We were back together, we were a team again, chasing the bad guys and taking them down, we were where we were supposed to be.

Today, the bad guys were chasing _us_ and where we _should_ be was inside four walls where we could salt the doors and windows and cover our asses until we figured out our next move.

Problem was, I could count a dozen 'next moves' right off the top of my head, and all of them were part of getting Sammy through this first night and the next couple of days: get a room, give him some clean clothes and have him take a shower because he smelled like ashes and death, get him to eat something, call to cancel his interview in the morning, buy him new clothes, find out what the funeral arrangements were going to be, deal with the authorities who were gonna want to ask him about the fire. And above all – _protect Sam_. I mighta been out of practice a few years but it all came pouring back on me as easy as coffee. It wasn't a thought, it was barely an instinct. It just was. _Protect Sam._

"All right, we'll get the room. But I want you to come in with me. I don't want to leave you in the car by yourself."

"Dean – c'mon."

"Hey – the driver's window is gone." I didn't want to remind him of the danger but I had to. "Anything could get in. I don't want you out here by yourself."

"We're right outside the office, you can see me through the window." He waited for me to give but I wasn't budging. He wiped at his face again. "Dean, please. I don't want to go in there like this."

Man, I was torn. _Protect Sam._ I didn't want to leave Sammy in the car where anything could reach its filthy claw through the open window and grab him while he wasn't paying attention. But I couldn't force him to come inside and stand behind me with his red eyes and wet face and make him the object of rude looks if not outright stupid questions.

"All right." I hated it but I said it. "Just – keep alert."

"_I know the drill Dean_." He said it annoyed but still sounded heartbroken, like he'd start crying again any second.

"Yeah, I know you do. I know you do. I'll be right back."

I slid out of the car and made the trip into the motel office as quick as I could. I hated taking my eyes off Sam. I was beginning to wonder how I'd survived the past three years with him out of my sight.

"Help you?" The unimpressed and unimpressive kid behind the desk asked. He was mabye as old as Sam and looked like he'd just woken up out of a sound sleep.

"I need a room. Two beds."

While he muttered and grumbled his way through his job, I looked back at Sam and did some muttering and grumbling of my own – he'd grabbed his phone out of the backseat and was talking to somebody. I was gonna flush that thing as soon as I had a chance.

"How're you gonna pay for this?" Clerk McPerky asked me. I considered my options. _Aframian_ was out thanks to 5-O in Jericho. I didn't know if we'd be in town long enough to get in trouble on another card, but I didn't want anybody being able to find Sam just by calling around to motels asking for Winchester.

"You take cash?"

"I live for it."

This guy was a laugh a minute. I signed us in under the name _Walsh, _paid up front for a week, grabbed the key and went back out. Sam was still on his phone and I was thinking about throwing it under the wheels as we drove down to our room but when I got to the car he was saying to somebody,

"No, my brother's here. Yeah -." He laughed a little. "He got here that fast. Whenever I'm in trouble, he's right there to take care of me. I'm gonna – I'm just gonna regroup tonight and not think about facing tomorrow yet." Well I guessed it wasn't Tracy on the phone again; whoever it was was actually letting Sam get an answer in. "No I can't even think about that right now. I just - I just need to be with my brother. Tomorrow I'll think about – whatever I need to think about. Tonight is just -." His voice broke and I was going to take the phone from him and throw it out the window but he said, "Yeah, bye," and hung up.

I got behind the wheel and looked at Sam and he looked at me and then he hit the 'OFF' button on the phone .

"No more tonight." I said and held my hand out. He nodded and handed the phone to me.

"Just don't destroy it, OK?" He asked me and actually had a not-totally-miserable look on his face.

"I make no promises Sammy." I figured if I tossed it out, he'd only scrounge it up again so I put in my inside jacket pocket. "All right. Room 26. It's supposed to be down this way."

We pulled in front of the room and I got out and went to the trunk and Sam walked around to stand next to me. I missed that , having somebody, having _Sam_, standing next to me. Dad had his own truck so whenever we stopped, we'd be separate, each getting our own stuff. I missed Sam standing there, waiting to get his backpack or waiting for me to hand it to him. I'd just missed Sammy.

I'd put his leather travel bag in the trunk next to my duffel but when I pulled it out I held onto it even as he reached for it.

"I've got it." I said and repeated when it didn't seem like he heard me or maybe didn't understand me. "C'mon, let's get to the room. I've got it." I slammed the trunk and we went inside.

It wasn't a bad motel room but it sure wasn't the Ritz. OK, so I wouldn't know a Ritz room if I woke up in one, but I figured flocked yellow wallpaper and yellow nylon bedspreads wouldn't be part of the décor. Sam looked around for a minute then sat himself on the far bed. I put my bag on my bed and set his on the table.

"Hungry?" I asked after I'd laid down salt lines. "I saw a 24-hour drive-thru down the way. I can get us something while you take a shower.

"No." He shook his head and then held his collar closed like he was gonna not want to get out of his clothes. I ignored that. He needed the shower.

"Okay, well let's get you a shower then. Here…" I dug some clothes out of my bag, sweats, t-shirt, a flannel shirt. I walked the few feet to hand them to Sam and he took them after staring at them like he wasn't sure what they were.

"You're not – you won't – you're not going anywhere, right?"

"Not going anywhere." I promised him and put my jacket over the back of a chair to reinforce it. He nodded and headed for the bathroom. "Tomorrow we'll go get you some clothes of your own." I only meant to reassure him that he wasn't gonna have to try to wear my clothes for any length of time, pretty much just thinking out loud. But Sam stopped and turned back to me, holding the clothes out like he was handing them back.

"Oh – well – you don't have to –." His expression was anguish and confusion. He thought I was putting conditions on handing over my stuff.

"Sam – _Sammy_ – hey, you can have anything of mine you want, you know that." I pushed his hand and his clothes back towards his body and let my hand wrap around his wrist. "It's just been awhile. You've gotten a little bigger since the last time we shared clothes, hunh?'

I gave a smile that I meant to be encouraging. It took a few beats but Sam smiled too and nodded and went into the bathroom. When he shut the door I let out a deep breath I didn't know I'd been holding. Even being half over already, this was going to be a long night.

The bottle of whiskey was in my duffel and I pulled it out and pour us each a plastic cupful. It'd help Sam sleep and it'd help me – it'd just help me. I tossed it back and poured another one but left it to wait until Sam drank his. Then I turned my attention to his bag.

The leather was pocked with soot and burned bits of what I wasn't even going to think about. The bathroom sink was outside the bathroom and I grabbed some paper towels and soaked them in water and scrubbed the bag as clean as I could get it.

Once that was done I opened it up, intending to go through his clothes and sort 'em out for the laundry, but the inside of the bag smelled even more of smoke than the outside if that was even possible, so I closed it again and shoved the whole thing into my duffel. Sam didn't need to see that bag or smell t hat smell again tonight.

I pulled out my phone and called Dad. He didn't answer and I didn't expect he would. It went straight to voice mail.

"Hey Dad. I've got Sam with me. His girlfriend – the demon killed his girlfriend, same way it killed Mom. It just happened tonight, a couple of hours ago. I've got Sam with me, he's OK, he didn't get burned or anything. We're in Palo Alto. I figure we'll be here a few days at least, for the funeral, and to find anything out about the demon being around. I'll – I'll call you if we find anything. Just – take care of yourself."

A little while after I hung up, Sam came out of the bathroom and sat on the end of his bed like he couldn't move another step. I didn't tell him I'd called Dad.

"Here." I handed him the cup of whiskey and took my own. He looked at it, then looked up at me like I was supposed to explain something to him. "It'll help you sleep Sam. Tomorrow things are gonna be –." What? Rough? Busy? Hell? "You'll need your sleep for tomorrow."

He nodded and looked at the cup again but didn't drink.

"To Jess." I said. "Smartest, prettiest, strongest girl I ever met."

And Sam nodded again and drank the whiskey and the empty plastic cup crumpled in his hand but I didn't think he meant that to happen. He started crying, hard, terrible, gagging sobs that came out of the break in his heart. I dropped my cup on the table and sat next to him to put my arm around him. He leaned against me and I put both arms around him and held onto him.

When he finally fell asleep, the sun was coming up and I still had him in my arms.


	2. Later That Same Night

_I just need my brother._

That's what Sam said to whoever on the phone last night, one of his friends I suppose calling to find out if it really was Jessica who died in that fire. Sam told them he only needed his brother and that alone was worth the stitch I had in my side from holding him, knowing that Sam felt better being with me.

He was still awake; the whiskey didn't work as good as I thought it would. As good as I wanted it to. Even when he cried himself out, he didn't fall asleep. He stayed in my arms, leaning across me, his head resting at my shoulder.

Every once in awhile he wiped at his eyes, or his hands worked the bottom of my shirt, or he rubbed his cheek against my sleeve to dry his tears. So I knew he wasn't falling asleep.

I rubbed his arm a couple of times every couple of minutes. Once I put my hand on his head and rested my cheek against his hair because when he was little that was always soothing.

"I'm sorry." I said. Sorry Jessica died, sorry his dreams had died, sorry that all I could say was 'sorry'.

"I know."

He didn't say it like either way it didn't matter. He didn't say it like Han Solo's '_I love you.' 'I know.' _He said it like it actually meant something to him that I was sorry, that I said it.

_I just need my brother._

I wondered what the person on the phone had been offering that Sam didn't need because he only needed - well, _me._

Just for that sentiment, I held him tighter and let my fingers find their way into his hair. Because it was soothing. I guess Sam thought so too because he sighed a not-entirely-miserable sigh.

"I should lay down." He said.

"No." Now, if he'd said, 'I _want_ to lay down,' I'd help him lay down, cover him up, anything he wanted. But he said he _should_ lay down so he didn't want to, he only thought he _ought _to. So there was only one answer. "No."

But he pushed himself up. He didn't move away from me though, he stayed where I could keep one arm around him. He'd stopped crying awhile before, but he was still breathing hard.

"I need to lay down." He said.

Okay, that I could work with. Saying it that way meant he really needed to lay down.

"All right, let's get you in bed."

We stood up and Sam walked around to the side of the bed. He pulled the blankets back and sat down. I picked up his crumpled plastic cup to throw it out and poured him another shot of whiskey in the other cup. When I turned back to him, he was still sitting up and he had his hands over his eyes, shielding them like a brim.

"Sammy - what is it?" I left the cup on the table and went to him.

"I can't lay down. I can't lay down because if I lay down and I look up - _I can't look up._"

I looked up, just a plain old plain ceiling up there. That's all I saw. But when Sam looked up - all he was going to see was his life burning away, just the way he'd seen it burn away not five hours before.

"All right, c'mon." I had to think fast. "C'mon and sleep in my bed. That'll be all right."

Yeah, that was a perfectly logical difference, wasn't it? Sleeping in _my_ bed would keep the nightmares away. Sam believed me though, or just trusted me maybe. He nodded and stood up and I walked him over to the other bed.

"All right. Here we go, get in." I pulled the blankets back on my bed and grabbed the pillows off of his bed and bundled them all up with mine so Sam technically wouldn't be laying down so theoretically he couldn't look up so hopefully he wouldn't freak out. He got in the bed, slid over, and scrunched down on the pillows. He didn't look up, but he didn't shield his eyes either. He pulled the blankets up and turned his head to look toward the window.

I sat next to him. I kept one foot on the floor so that I was sitting, not sleeping but _sitting,_ next to him, and he was low enough so that I could put my arm over the pillows so I felt like I was still shielding him.

_I just need my brother._

I wasn't leaving him alone. Not tonight.

"What time is it?" He asked.

I checked my watch.

"Four thirty." I said. "A.M." I really didn't expect it to be that late. Or that early. Or whatever.

"Oh."

He didn't say anything else, he kept looking toward the window and I followed his line of sight to see what he might be seeing. Through the gap in the curtains, all I could see was a clear night sky. I could only guess what Sam was seeing.

We sat there a while. Sam didn't sleep. I didn't sleep. I thought about getting him that second drink of whiskey, but as long as he was quiet and resting, I didn't want to disturb him.

"Thanks for coming back to get me." He said it without looking at me.

I couldn't say anything. He didn't have to thank me. I hated to think how close I came to not getting there in time to save Sam. I hated to think how close I did come to getting there in time to save Jessica. I couldn't say anything. So I reached down to squeeze his shoulder and I could see enough of his face to see him smile.

We sat there awhile longer. I wanted to enjoy being with Sam again, having him close, having him need me, but under the circumstances I only let myself be glad that I _was_ there when he needed me.

Finally I gave in entirely to the chick-flickness of the moment and stretched out with my feet up on the bed. Sam didn't move or say anything.

As long as I wasn't sleeping, I mentally went over and firmed up the list of what I needed - what _we_ needed - to do in the morning and for the next week that we'd likely be in town.

Number one on my list was disabling the TV so Sam couldn't watch any news reports. Then get us some breakfast. Get him enough clothes that fit him so he could come with me whenever I had to leave the room. Do his laundry. _Answer his phone_ I thought to myself with a barely patient sigh.

"Dean?" He sounded like he'd caught himself dropping off.

"Right here."

He took a deep breath and let it out slow; I recognized that from as far back as Sammy still wearing onesies as a sign that he was ready to fall asleep.

"_Thanks_..." He turned toward me. I don't know if he meant to or not, but when he turned he ended up resting right up against my side. I brought my arm down, sliding it behind his head to put my hand on his shoulder, and Sammy moved closer. He'd sleep now. Just what he needed.

_I_ only needed my brother.

The End


	3. The Next Morning

The beep of a car horn woke me up and for a coupla seconds, I was disoriented. Motel, check. Daylight, check. In a bed, check. Sitting next to Sam, so Sam was sick, so Dad was - where?

But even fewer seconds after that, it all came back on me.

Motel in Palo Alto. Seven am so we'd gotten two and a half hours of sleep. Sitting next to Sam so that Sam could sleep. And Sam might not be able to sleep because his girlfriend had burned to death on their ceiling last night.

Dad was AWOL.

Great.

Sam was sleeping, still half sitting up against all the pillows. I was mostly sitting up next to him, leaning against the headboard. I eased out of the bed, twisting out the kink that sleeping sitting up had put in my back. Sam didn't move.

I could function on two hours of sleep. I've functioned on less. I had to try and make the world as right as possible for when Sammy woke up.

There wasn't much for breakfast if I didn't go out, and I wasn't going out except to the car to get the coffee and granola bars. That'd tide us over until I got Sam squared away with clothes and - and whatever else he needed.

I pulled Sam's phone out of his jacket pocket. Twenty-seven messages in two and a half hours. Wow. I looked back at him, still asleep, still protected in sleep from the reality of what his life was right now. I put the phone back in my jacket pocket.

Sam didn't move when I went out to the car and brought in our little coffee maker and anything else I thought we might need. I didn't want to leave the room again unless I really really had to.

After I got the coffee started, I took a fast shower then had myself my makeshift breakfast. I was cracking open my second granola bar when Sam came awake, sitting bolt upright and gasping like he was out of breath.

"I have to call - where's my phone? I have to call -." He looked around himself. "Where's my phone?"

"Sam - what're you talking about?" I put down my coffee and went to him. "Call who?" _Please not Jessica. _"Sammy? Who do you have to call?"

"School. My interview. I have to call to cancel my interview."

I really couldn't think what difference it made now, Sam seemed set on hunting whatever killed Jess; what difference did a missed interview make?

"It's only a little past seven-thirty in the morning, Sam. Is anybody even going to be there?"

"What?" Sam looked around. He looked confused. "What time is it?"

"It's not even eight a.m. Nobody's even going to be there probably. You've hardly had any sleep, Sammy. Go back to sleep."

"Where's my phone? I have to call...where's my phone?"

Instead of giving over Sam's phone and risking him wanting to listen to all of his messages, I handed my phone over.

"All right, call. Leave a message. Then go back to sleep, okay?"

He took my phone and stared at it and fumbled it like it was alive and squirming. He got it dialed though and rested his elbow on his knee with the phone at his ear.

"Hi - hello - this is - um - this is - this is -." His voice was shaking as bad as his hand. "Sam Win-Win-chester. I - uh -."

He shot out of the bed and hurried to the bathroom, dropping my phone on the table as he rushed past me. I picked it up and finished his message.

"Hi, I'm Sam Winchester's brother. He won't make his interview today. Um - his house burned down last night, and - um - his girlfriend died." I could hear him retching in the bathroom. "Anyway, so he won't be there."

I hung up and went into the bathroom. Sam was hunched over the sink, scooping handfuls of water from the faucet into his mouth and spitting them back out. And in between he was dragging in air like he couldn't breathe.

"Sammy?" I pulled off one of the towels for whenever Sam needed it and put my hand on his back . "Just breathe. Take it easy. Just breathe."

He shut off the faucet and rested over with his arm on the sink. He was breathing hard and had his eyes shut. One hand came up and I thought he was reaching for the towel but instead he grabbed onto my arm and pulled me close to his side.

"I'm here, Sammy. I'm here."

He nodded into his arm. And tugged me a little closer.

"All right, Sam. C'mon. Let's get you back to bed."

"No. Please - no. I just - I'm - please, no."

"All right, take your time. Just take your time."

A minute or less and he straightened up and dragged a sleeve over his eyes and didn't let go of my arm.

"Can I just - sit - for a minute? I'll be all right if I can - just - sit for a minute."

"Anything you want. C'mon."

I dropped the towel on the sink and moved, step by step, out of the bathroom, leading Sammy out by the grip he had on me.

"Here, here we go. Here's the table. We've got coffee and granola bars. C'mon Sammy, here, just sit here."

I pulled a chair out and tried to gently steer Sam toward it. As soon as he sat down, he stood back up again.

"My wallet?" He asked. He sounded - he was - frantic. "Where's my wallet?"

"I'll get it for you. Sit down. I'll get it for you."

He sat down but turned in the chair to watch me go to my duffel and take his wallet out of it. I gave it to him before he stood up again. At least he wasn't asking for his phone.

"Here you go."

"_Thanks_." He said it quietly and I felt bad that he thought he had to thank me for something so small.

He opened his wallet and with the same desperation flipped through it until he found whatever he was looking for and pulled it out. Once it was out, his wallet fell to the floor and he didn't even seem to notice.

He'd pulled out a picture of Jessica. And he stared at it like he could will her out of it and back into his life. I set a coffee and granola bar in front of him.

"After - after awhile, we'll - figure out what we need to do today…" I said. Even though my brain was fixed on '_get Sam as far away from here as possible_' I knew we couldn't do that yet.

Sam nodded, barely, and didn't lift his eyes from Jessica's picture until my phone rang. I had a moment of hope that it was Dad, but when I checked, it was a local number. Maybe the cops.

"I'm gonna take this outside, okay?"

"Yeah. Okay." He nodded and went back to looking at Jessica's picture. I went out to the sidewalk and closed the door and stood where I could see Sam through the front window.

"Hello?"

"Is this Dean?" A woman's voice asked me. It wasn't a familiar voice and my brain started clicking on who I could call to get another hunter to help her with whatever. Caleb, probably.

"Who's this?" I asked back.

"This is Katherine Moore. Jessica's mother."

_Oh crap. Ohhhh crap._

"Is Sam with you? Sam's with you, isn't he?" She asked before I could say anything. "I've been calling his phone but he doesn't answer. One of the police officers gave me your number."

"Mrs. Moore - I'm sorry about Jessica. She - I only met her for a few minutes, but I could tell she was - special."

"Thank you. She was, she was very special. I don't know how we're going to -" Whatever she was going to say, she stopped herself. I could hear her take a deep breath.

"Sam's with you, though? Is he all right?"

I looked through the window at Sam. He had one arm wrapped around himself, rocking a little in the chair, still staring at the photograph. I could feel his agony fifteen feet away.

_What was I supposed to say…_

"He wasn't hurt in the fire, was he?"

"No, he wasn't hurt. He choked in some smoke but - no. He wasn't hurt."

…_I got my brother with me, safe and sound, and there's not even one tiny bit left of your daughter._

"Thank God for that. Is it possible I could talk to him?"

Right, he couldn't even finish a voicemail message cancelling an appointment. Talking to Jessica's mother would destroy him.

"No, I'm sorry Mrs. Moore. He's not - he's not up to much right now. I can tell him you called…" _when he was sound asleep and can't hear me._

"I'm so glad you're with Sam. I know how close you two are. I'm so glad he has you with him right now."

"He told you that?" I asked, surprised. "He told you we're close?"

"When we celebrated Jessica's birthday this year, Sam mentioned you, mentioned that it was 'Dean's birthday too'. When I asked who that was, he said you were his 'big brother'. A grown man doesn't refer to his brother that way unless that brother is very important to him, unless they're very close. I'm _so_ glad you're here with him…"

Her voice cracked then and neither of us was going to survive this conversation much longer.

"I'll call later and see if he's up to talking with me, and I'll let you know when we've made the arrangements. All right?" Her voice tremored and I had to swallow before I could answer.

"Yes, that'll be -." _Not fine, stupid. You don't tell a woman that funeral arrangements for her daughter are fine._ " - we'll wait for your call…"

"Thank you Dean. Tell Sam that we're thinking of him."

"I will. Thank you Mrs. Moore."

That conversation finally ended, _thank God_. I went back into the motel room where Sam was still looking at the picture of Jessica.

"Is it worth it?" He asked.

"Is what worth what?" I asked back. His wallet was still on the floor; I picked up it up and set it on the table.

"All the one night stands. Are they worth it?"

"Worth _what_?"

Sam stared at the picture and pressed his thumb over it.

"Worth never being in love."

"Who says I'm never in love?" I asked, trying to get Sam to laugh, or even just smile, but he didn't.

"I loved her so much." He said. "And she loved me. I couldn't believe how much she loved me. With no strings, no conditions, no matter what. She didn't even love me _in spite_ of how I am, but _because_ of it…"

A couple of tears spilled over his eyes and down his face and he scrubbed them away roughly.

"I just - I can't _think_ and all I want to _do _is _think _- and - ."

Sam apparently realized that he was rambling on and he stopped talking. He took a swallow of his coffee and wiped a hand across his mouth.

"I'm sorry."

What could I say? I wanted to give him the usual, tell him everything would be OK, that we'd get through it, that I'd take care of everything for him. But like so many other times in our lives, it was a lie. Only this time, Sam would _know _it was a lie.

So I told him the truth.

"Don't be sorry, Sammy. It hurts, I know it does. I wish I could make it hurt less." I took the next chair at the table and pulled it close to him. "Whatever you need, whatever it takes, you know we'll get it for you. I'll be right here."

He nodded. His eyes were red and raw and so full of trust that when he held Jessica's picture out to me, I thought for a minute he was going to ask, '_make her come back.'_ But he didn't say anything. He only held the picture and didn't say anything and I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do. So I put my hand around the picture too, letting my fingers touch Sammy's fingers, and we stayed that way a few minutes, both holding on, looking at the picture of a beautiful innocent girl who died because we got involved with her life.

"She was more than just a girlfriend." Sam told me.

"I know. I knew that the second I saw you two together. You stood next to her. You didn't stand in front of her, you didn't stand away from her. You stood _with_ her. I knew right then how much she meant to you."

"I'm never - I'll never - there'll never be -."

He was telling himself, promising himself, vowing that he'd never love again, never let another woman into his life, never let himself feel that way about anyone again.

This one I could handle without lying.

"Jessica will always be the most special woman you ever met. The most beautiful woman you ever knew. She's always gonna be in that special place in your heart. You hold onto that Sammy, don't you let go of that."

He nodded. Then he nodded again.

I wished he was small enough that this could just all be a bad dream and I could pull him in my lap and feel his arms go around my neck and know as soon as his heart stopped racing that everything was OK again.

But this would never be okay again.

So I did the next best thing, I stood up and stood behind him, put my hands on his shoulders and held on tight.

"We'll get through this, Sammy. We're gonna get through this."

.


End file.
